Day 101

Bill has become increasingly tired over the last few weeks; as a result, my chore list has grown to accommodate his chores, as well as my own. Last night I carefully sorted the recycling and hauled it to the curb. Today I got up and went to the grocery store. When I returned the recycling was scattered in my own yard and the yards of my neighbors. I looked like a crazy woman chasing newspaper and empty plastic bottles caught on the wind. I came home and in a state of utter frustration and anger, responded to an email from a friend. I explained how crappy my life is right now and how pissed off I am about it. I told her that I would never be able to write from this state. She wrote back with this question: What sort of thing would you like to read that would help? Clearly, she was advising me to write that, the thing I most needed to read myself. I knew immediately what I most wanted to hear from the page. I wanted an acknowledgement that indeed life really sucks sometimes. Bill told me a story once about a woman he encountered while working in a psychiatric hospital. She was depressed, suicidal perhaps, when she told him about all of her hardships and struggles. Bill was at a loss for words and simply said, "Wow, your life really sucks." These words were not from the counselors' handbook. Instead, they were honest and real and they conveyed understanding and empathy. Life really does suck sometimes. It is freeing to write these words: no more pretending, no more trying to prop myself up, no need to put on a happy face. I can sit in my discontent and know that as much as I don't like it, I will survive. Who knows, maybe tomorrow will suck just a little less than today.